The Troubled Mind Of Alfred Jones
by Triforce of Water
Summary: Post-war AU. England has perished in battle and left America to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. All the other countries said it wasn't America's fault. And he knows that it wasn't. Because all this? It was their fault. And they will pay. WARNING: rated T for violence and dark thoughts. USUK pairing. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
1. Chapter 1

Sadness. That's all he could feel. His lovely Arthur had been taken by the terrible red hands of death. Alfred couldn't cope. He couldn't accept the inevitable fact that his best friend, the love of his life, was gone. He knew he was the stronger of their inseparable pair. But he didn't expect Arthur to go quite so easily.

It was the aftermath of World War Four, in the year 3021. After the war, surprisingly not many countries had perished. England and Austria had been the only ones. America didn't even care about the piano prodigy. He just wanted his England back.

He screamed and sobbed and put his head in his hands, because nothing, _nothing_, could bring back his green-eyed ally. Not just an ally. His partner. The one true love of his life. The other countries, after forming the Alliance of Peace, had tried to console him. It wasn't his fault. He didn't let England die. England wouldn't want him to live like this.

They didn't know what he'd want, Alfred thought bitterly. None of them knew what it was like to lose your soul mate. At that moment, he was truly broken, a shattered nation battered and bruised by the cruel thing that was life. And he didn't care anymore. Without his crutch, how was he to survive? It simply wasn't possible.

He would have given anything for the familiar taste of his friend's terrible scones right then. Anything and everything Arthur had ever done now was precious, the time spent much too little in the American's weeping eyes. _How could this have happened?_

One moment they were fighting together with smiles on their faces as they charged into battle with carelessness. The next, there was a last breath gasped, with an "I love you," and sightless eyes met his. There was blood everywhere and a red rage surrounding Alfred Jones.

What happened next changed the course of a losing war. A guttural scream had come from the country. Then, the enemy was suddenly down. No one knew exactly what had happened in that battle. No one but America.

He was responsible for the blows the countries had suffered. Those terrible deaths of the citizens, casualties of puppets. He had barely felt what he was doing. They were nothing but cardboard people. In his crazed mind nothing was real.

He sighed now. Nothing in the world was worth getting up and starting the day. Unless, of course, he could find some way to make the others feel the pain and sadness he was going through. Losing their other half was certainly the only way to avenge his amazing, perfect England.

A goal in mind, getting up was now just a little bit easier. He got dressed, choosing a black coat and pants with a dark maroon shirt. Perfect for the job he had in mind. He walked down the steps of his house into his kitchen. There he was hit by the memories of his friend. And there were too many to count. Too many to take on. He was carrying the sky itself, sitting on his shoulders. It was a cold burden to he needed to let it out. Doubled over in pain, he saw this:

_England was standing over the stove, wearing a stupid chef's hat and humming. He looked up and noticed America was standing there in his pajamas. "Good morning!" He said cheerfully. Alfred walked to him and peeked over his shoulder. A strangely delicious smell had bathed the room. As soon as he looked he knew the smell was coming from the delicious-looking pancakes in Arthur's pan._

_"I didn't know you could cook!" He said disbelievingly. The green-eyed boy turned around and looked him squarely in the eye._

_"It's a special occasion. I learned for you!"_

_"But.. What's so special about today?" The American was confused. He received an exasperated glare from the other._

_"Um, you know today is your birthday, right?"_

Worry spread over the distressed country. Should he really go through with this? Couldn't there be another way? Then, he saw England's coat on the back of a chair. All his thoughts were quieted as he decided that this was necessary to achieve vengeance. He picked up the biggest knife on the rack and held it up to the wavering light. This would do.

A dark grin spread over his face. "I've always been the hero. Now, maybe I'm the bad guy..." His eyes regained a sparkle, though from malice or glee it was hard to tell. He would not fall victim to the plague of sadness. Instead, he would allow others to fall prey. He was a feral predator waiting for the chance to strike.

He decided his first stop would be Feli and Ludwig's house. The pair was practically attached at the hip, so it was no surprise when the Italian moved in with Ludwig. They were more often than not seen together, and both had survived the disastrous war. America got in the car, all the while thinking about his relationship to the two countries. Both of them had always been friendly to him, and Feliciano was somewhat of a little brother to Alfred. Germany was a country he respected. Alfred could relate to the strong man.

He pulled into their driveway and paused to think about what he was about to do (A/N: meaning I stopped to think 'bout if I actually want to do this or not). Should he cross this line, so darkly traced into the paths of all? Once he did it, it could never be undone.

A mask of fury crossed over his face, and a tempting voice sounded in his head. _Come on... You know you want to. It can't be undone for England either, so why bother thinking about this? Nothing is worth being good for anymore._

He knew the voice was wrong, but he so wanted to succumb to sweet darkness. And succumb he did, as he pulled up the hood of his jacket to cover his face and rapped hard on the door. It was time.


	2. Chapter 2

He waited there on the doorstep for a second before Feliciano answered. A pleasant smile on his face, he inquired, "Ah, who-" He was cut off with a sickening noise as Alfred's knife went straight through his heart. The Italian crumpled to the floor, staring at Alfred. "Ludwig... Please..." He coughed weakly, and dark liquid spattered the ground. With a shuddering cry, he was still. His sightless eyes stared into the American's soul, questioning as to why he had just stabbed his friend. They were so cute, it was a shame they'd never twinkle again.

Alfred cast an amused smile at the thought: he was sure Ludwig wouldn't appreciate him thinking Vargas was cute. Besides, Alfred already had- oh, god. Arthur was gone, and he'd just murdered a friend with an indifferent heart. _Why, oh god, why did I do this? Some sort of sick revenge for Arthur?_ He was horrified by the terrible act he had just committed. _Alfred,_ a grandfatherly voice sounded gently,_ Why did you do this?_

Shaken with grief for Arthur and now, Feliciano, the irrational part of Alfred's mind took over. He began to laugh insanely. What was the point anymore? He was going to die anyway! And when he did, he would see his beloved Arthur again. So what happened now didn't matter.

Hearing the laughing noise, Ludwig rushed to the door. He stopped short. Feliciano's corpse dawned on him. The strong German nation, in that moment, shattered. He fell on his knees and started to sob quietly, head in hands. He seemed so utterly weak, so worthless. Alfred couldn't believe he used to admire this guy. He was about to kill him when a dark voice in his head sounded. _Do not kill him. Instead, let him experience the pain you felt when your loved one died._ Ludwig was obviously upset over the loss of his dearest friend. He was shaking uncontrollably and muttering.

And Alfred quite enjoyed it. He enjoyed, in a sick way, seeing his pain reflected in another. He wanted to see more. He was about to walk away when Ludwig raised his head. "You... I promise you will die. One day, I'll find you and get revenge for what you did to Feli!"

Smile on his face, the blood of an innocent on his hands, the American leaned down to the German nation. In a voice that was not his own, he replied casually, "You aren't gonna find me, I promise. And as for Vargas..." He paused. "You aren't gonna find him either." With those parting words, he left. The nation started to walk back home and reflected that the day had been pretty satisfactory.

Meanwhile, Germany was heartbroken. His poor Feliciano had died alone in the world, with no one he loved around. If he hadn't known pain before, this was its very definition. He spent the rest of his day burying Feliciano, slipping a ring on his finger before he said goodbye forever. He was crying softly over the loss of his friend. He didn't even bother to fold his clothes that night, disregarding all matters and instead choosing to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

What had he done that he so deserved this? He rolled on his side and thought about Italy. Though he was so willing to surrender, the nation had been pure and kind, always wanting to help. Ludwig smiled as he thought about the little Italian mass-producing white flags and going on and on about his beloved pasta. Then he frowned. There would be no more of that now that Feliciano was gone. Wait... Feliciano was gone! He would have to tell the others, but he decided to do it in the morning. Right then, he wasn't capable of doing anything.

In the morning, after a night of fitful sleep, Ludwig awoke later than usual. With a shock, he realized that no one was beside him. Already, Feliciano was so far away. The sad German nation got up and dressed messily. Then, he went to see one of his oldest friends, Kiku. The kind man would surely help him try to get over the loss of Feliciano.

As he flew his plane, he thought about how best to break the news to the Asian nation. It wouldn't be easy, but the German nation figured he'd have to tell him. The level-headed country would be able to deal with it too, he figured.

Far up in the clouds, he was flying straight and slow, taking his time to enjoy the sight of the clouds. It had always fascinated him. They were so messy, but so beautiful all the same. Just, he reflected sadly, like his lost friend. He saw him in everything he encountered.

Arriving at Kiku's house, the nation greeted him on the lawn with a smile. Seeing the German's melancholy expression, he raised an eyebrow. "Feliciano is... dead," said Ludwig sadly, coming to the truth right away. A gasp from the Japanese country was all it took to set Ludwig to crying again. Kiku tried to comfort him to no avail.

"We must find this... widow maker," said Kiku firmly, "and end him for what he has done. Our honor, and our friend's, depends on it." Ludwig blushed at what the Asian nation was implying, and the two friends sat there for a long time, talking about what had happened to their friend and who the mysterious murderer could have been. Maybe a citizen angered by the countries' war, they mused. However, they knew for certain it couldn't be one of their fellow nations. That was too horrible to comprehend.

Far from his former friend's turmoil, Alfred was feeling good. He was getting back at the other nations and avenging Arthur's death. Their destruction was upon them, and he couldn't wait. He silenced the weak mumblings in the back of his mind telling him to stop, and continued on in his death quest. Next? He didn't know, but it was going to be fun when it happened.

A/N: So, I know you all hate me for killing half of the OTP, but don't worry. Not everyone will die, but that's for me and me alone... Adieu, my loves, and until next chapter! Tell me who should be the second nation to go down! If anyone even reads this... ;)


End file.
